


my love & i

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, POV First Person, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Berwald's point of view; what it means to be in love with Timo, who doesn't love him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my love & i

Timo ought to have known how much he affected me. His mere presence weighed upon my lungs with a strength unrivaled. His laughter, his soft, yet boyish voice -- it drove me mad. I would give anything to wrap my arm around him as he leaned against me, laughing after he told me some joke about Russians (which I never understood, but snorted all the same). I wanted to catch his hand after he shoved me, kiss every knuckle and then pull him close to kiss him fully. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to brush back his soft hair, I wanted to make the kiss last until we were both gasping for air, due to our inexperience.   
  
I could never have that. I could never break our routine and do something so drastic, something that would end all that I had worked so hard for. I had earned this friendship. I had worked so hard to build it from scratch and I would never do anything to jeopardize it.  
  
As Timo pushed against me again, I smiled somewhat. I could hardly think with him around. My thoughts were jumbled with hopeful "what-ifs," fantasies played in my head as I thought of the outcomes of a brash action. They were all positive. Timo would always fall back against me, melt into the kiss, be won over. Timo fell for me over and over again in my daydreams and I always made sure he never fell out of love.  
  
In truth, I was the one who was swept up. Timo had caught me in his natural whirlwind and he was one of the most beautiful disasters I had ever witnessed.  
  
Again and again, I found myself falling in love with him. Every time I thought I could escape and be a normal, _decent_  friend, he would smile at me or he would tug me along by my hand. Timo was too affectionate for his own good. I felt attention-starved whenever he baited me with a touch or a look -- anything. I would go through withdrawals. I would long to feel his soft hand take mine again or to feel him hug me before we said our goodbyes. I would long for him to just realize how much he meant to me and lean up on his toes, kiss me, do something to make me see that it wasn't some foolish, one-sided love affair.  
  
But it was. It was always one-sided. Timo deserved so much better than me. I had nothing but my love to offer him and even I didn't think that was enough. Timo deserved much more.  
  
I wish he would realize that.  
  
I feel as though I keep him away from all of the other men who long for him. So many people like Timo, though very few loved him as I did. I loved Timo for all of him, not just for his cute face and his shapely body. I loved his quirks. I loved his eccentric personality and his bizarre taste in food and music. I even loved that he adored the strange traditions from his homeland. He was adorable, eyes bright and wide, as he dreamed and claimed time and time again that he'd participate in an air guitar contest someday. I always said I would go with him and cheer him on and I meant it. Even if it was some dream he'd never fulfill, I would always be willing to be there every step of the way. I've tasted _salmiakki_ and I've sat in a sauna. We've jumped into a lake stark naked, crazy and somewhat tipsy. Timo had been so happy. He never did get to share such things with anyone else.   
  
 _Only you_ , he had said,  _would be crazy enough to go along with my ideas_.  
  
I would follow him to the ends of the earth. If that was what made me crazy, I would proudly embrace it.   
  
I love him so much. We hug, we relax together, and sometimes (if I'm particularly lucky that day) Timo will fall asleep on me. He's angelic. He could snore and I would think it was the sound of an angel's harp (or something equally as embarrassing). I'm a terribly biased guy, but when it came to Timo, I saw no wrong in that. His freckles were perfect, even if he hated them. They were prominent in summer and I'd catch a close-up of them, his blond hair a tad darker from exposure to the sun. I wanted to kiss those, too. I wanted to kiss his button nose and rub my stubble against his neck, hear him complain about my sharp nose.  _Like a bird's beak!_ he teased, sometimes pinching my nose. It had been so cute, I scared him with the expression it evoked. I never mean to scare him. I simply can't tell when my face is seen as "scary." Timo's gotten used to it, though I do get him on occasion. It's something to laugh about now, but it had been quite depressing when I had first tried making friends with him.  
  
Those days are far-off memories now. I had pined after him since the day I saw him. Middle school had been an eye-opening experience. I didn't really make friends until the summer before high school, but I had watched Timo. I had longed to say hello, to say anything. He was always surrounded by friends, chatting away, always smiling. Everyone knew him by name and knew he was inexplicably friendly. Even Ivan had been friends with him at a point. There was no one he couldn't charm, Ivan's sister the only possible exception. One smile and he had another new crowd of friends who were eager to help him with anything he needed.  
  
I, on the other hand, had a whopping total of three friends at that point. My brother, his friend, and his friend's little brother. I couldn't really call them friends. Lukas and I got along well, though we never spoke -- it was something we had in common. Eiríkur didn't care much about getting along with others either.   
  
Mathias? At age twelve, I hated his guts.   
  
At age fourteen, we became best friends, all because the guy figured out I wanted to be Timo's friend. Turned out, Mathias and him were rather close. Too close, I'd say. Much, much too close -- but he helped me out. I trusted him. I became friends with Timo after much coaxing on Mathias's end and Timo tried his best. Eventually, we became inseparable. We were best friends, closer than anyone. Timo told me things because he knew I'd listen and would never tell a soul. As he opened up and saw that I wasn't some monster, we got closer. Eventually I started talking. He told me jokes. He learned I knew how to laugh.   
  
But all that time, I knew I had not only longed to be his friend, but his boyfriend. Those whole two years of pining, my affection for him grew. I put him on a pedestal. I'd let him walk all over me if it meant he'd smile for me in return. I'd give him anything I had to offer. I'd buy him Lordi tickets off of eBay, and one time, I came incredibly close to doing just that. Thankfully, I didn't have enough of my own money to bid. I found myself in love with someone who didn't know I existed outside of the fact I'm Mathias's brother and I was a complete "freak." Too tall for my age, scrawny, wore wire-rimmed glasses, and I had apparently looked like I constantly "wanted to beat people up." That was the rumor. I didn't know how to fight. I'd probably curl up in a ball and deal with the punches -- at least, at that age. Now? Not so much. I've bulked up, put on muscle, learned how to defend myself (Timo, really). I wanted to become someone he could rely on. I wanted to protect him. It took some time, but I surpassed Mathias in strength.  
  
I needed to.  
  
He's Timo's crush, after all.  
  
It breaks my heart to think of it. Timo  _liking_  Mathias. Mathias would never return his feelings because he's secretly dating Lukas. No one can know about it. They're childhood friends and practically related. It'd be disgusting to most people. They seemed to have been dating ever since they met as kids, but they recently came out to me about it. Lukas had been hounded by some guy and Mathias had told him he was his boyfriend. They had to tell me because they couldn't deny it anymore. Eiríkur knows, too, but he doesn't particularly care. Mathias annoys him.  
  
He annoys me, too, and he's my brother.   
  
It makes everything so much worse.  
  
Timo told me a few months ago, tearful and shaking. He told me he didn't want to like Mathias, he just  _did_. Hearing him gush about my brother, someone I had hated up until three years ago -- it was too much for me to handle. I had to keep calm and listen. I rubbed Timo's back. I told him it wouldn't be wise to tell Mathias, but I couldn't explain why. Telling him Mathias was dating Lukas, whom Timo was  _friends_  with... I couldn't go through with it. I was surprised -- still am surprised -- that he doesn't even notice. They're close, attached at the hip, constantly going out at night. Mathias is never home (because he'd never get away with having sex here, with our parents, thankfully). Timo seems to think they're just friendly. I watch him and I see him look at Mathias, I've seen him blush when Mathias has gotten close or when he does something for Timo. It makes my blood boil. I become angry. I want Timo to look at me with that reverence, to want me to do things for him. I want him to scoot next to me when he's drunk, to get a bit touchy-feely (though it's excused because we're all drunk and we're all guys -- who doesn't get touchy-feely during those times?).   
  
There are times, however, when I think he's figured it out. He's never told me if he does know and he's feigning ignorance or not. I always trust what he tells me, but I can't help but think when he makes a dejected face or when he looks as though he's uncomfortable around Lukas... that he knows. He knows he doesn't have a chance and that Mathias will never hold him. It breaks my heart.  
  
Maybe because I'm in that position, watching Timo from afar, wanting so desperately to be Mathias, to be the object of Timo's affection. It's so selfish. I hate myself for thinking in such a way, but it's so difficult to not say anything, to approve of Timo's desire to be with Mathias. I could never truly approve of it, no matter how much I want to. I want to be happy that Timo likes someone. I want to be there to support him and to show him I'm there for him. 

  
Funnily enough, when I think more about it, a handful of ABBA songs come to mind.   
  
I'm Swedish through and through. I think it says a lot about me and just how sad I am, how far I've fallen.  _Take a Chance on Me_ and _The Winner Takes it All_  describe my love life (lack thereof, really). I'm not proud by any means. I work part-time at IKEA, my hobby is making furniture, and ABBA is the soundtrack of my life. It's pathetic.  
  
Timo's coming over today. I clean house, Mathias has long since gone out to spend the night at Lukas's, I'm left to my own devices as my parents go out for dinner. Comforting, really. They know they can trust Timo and I. He'll be here soon, I'll fix us dinner, we'll act normal.

If I allow myself to step back and observe us, I'd confuse us for a couple. Timo comes over, lets himself in, I'm making dinner. He smiles and drops his bag and slips out of his shoes, stretching and breathing in the smell of pasta.   
  
 _Evening, Ber_ , Timo says, as if it's routine. I simply hum, fixing the pasta as I know Timo likes it best -- not a lot of meatball to go with it, but a lot of sauce. He thanks me for cooking; I say it's no problem. We eat, he tells me about his day and I get lost in staring at him, forgetting about my meal. I stare at Timo, at his eyes, his face, his expression. Sometimes my eyes wander to his lips, though I'm mostly innocent when it comes to this. I love looking at Timo. I stare to try and read him, decipher him, and I get lost in it. I get so wrapped up, I don't know I'm staring, and he has to snap me out of it. Sometimes he jokes about me checking him out and during those times I tense. I worry he's found me out. But he hasn't. I pray he never does.  
  
It's so comfortable, like this. It's the reason why I fear this will end if I mess up, if I say my thoughts out loud, if I act on impulse and touch him in a way that can't be read as friendly, no matter how hard I'd try to rationalize it. It's inevitable to happen, since I've been in love with him for so long, pathetically moping and pining over him. No one gets to hear it but myself, my journals. I write things in Swedish to help get my thoughts out clearer. I let go and write, dip into a realm most wouldn't associate with me. It's the only way I can be eloquent and say what I actually mean to say. Half of the time, I'm misunderstood. Timo has grown to understand me, know when I want explanations or when I need help. He knows when I'm happy and when I'm angry. He knows everything, but the most obvious fact about me.  
  
Funny how it all works.  
  
"As always, your food was just  _perfect_. I don't know how you do it! I wish I could just have you come live with me and spoil me with all this good food. I'd just get fatter, though, so maybe it's a good thing I don't get this every night! It'd be so nice, though... ah... haha, don't get any ideas, though! I better not have any packed lunches or surprise visits from you! I'll... I don't know what I'll do! Excommunicate you?"   
  
Ah, Timo's rambles. They're adorable, just like everything about him is. Most people might find it annoying he talks a mile a minute, especially when he gets nervous, but I like listening to him. His voice, his laugh that usually is somewhere in the ramble... an airy sigh... it's all wonderful. I simply hum, amused. He knows I find it humorous. I may not be smiling, but it's there. I can see him reading it. I simply shrug when he purses his lips, close to a pout.  
  
I want to tell him he's not fat. He's soft, curvy, but in all of the right places. He's self-conscious and I can understand and respect it -- after all, I was the same at one point. I was always too tall and too scrawny. I've grown accustomed to it. Timo has always been short and chubby, but chubbiness is not seen as a good thing (though I love how he looks). Having a feminine figure isn't, either. It's grounds for hardcore bullying. Thankfully, Timo knows who to hang out with. If someone hurt his feelings, they'd have to deal with me.  
  
 _Or Mathias._  
  
The thought comes and I wish it would go away the second it flashes in my mind. Mathias coming to Timo's rescue would probably be his biggest dream. What if I'm getting in the way of all of his "chances" with my brother? I think about that constantly. Timo surely doesn't want me there  _all_  of the time. There has to be some times where he just wishes I would go hang out with Lukas, leave Timo to talk to Mathias.  
  
Get drunk. Touchy-feely. Maybe even...  
  
"Ber?"  
  
Timo's voice breaks the dangerous train of thought. I don't know why it happens. It's horrifying. Some thought like that jumps into my mind and even I know my face must be contorted into one of anger -- or fear.   
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You don't look so good. Did I say something wrong? Oh, geez, you know I'd be happy if you made me lunch! I really would be! I just don't need to put on more weight--"  
  
"S'not that," I interrupt, quickly shaking my head, "was thinking 'bout th'exam. Don't think I did too well."  
  
"The exam? At a time like this? Ber... c'mon. Why don't we watch a movie? I brought some of Mom's best vodka. _Pre-approved_  of course, you know she won't let me drink without you around. And I never lie to her. She has perfect reason to trust me! I can mix us some drinks and we can watch that one movie you've been dying to show me. _Arn_? That Swedish film?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."  
  
Wonderful, actually. Timo's voice alone sets me at ease. I should be hollering for joy. Alone on a Friday night with Timo, drinks in hand, a nice movie I know he'll love... and on the sofa in the living room. He's affectionate and I'm equally as such (really, I am). Sure, we cuddle sometimes. It just happens. He might start lounging on the other end, but eventually, we sort of just come together and relax. It usually ends with Timo falling asleep and me carrying him to the guest bed. I tend to brush his hair back then, look at him, and long for the day he returns my feelings.

\--

  
"Berwald Oxenstierna, you are an  _idiot!_  After all of these years! After everything! Why haven't you noticed? Why has it taken so long?! After everything I've tried to do to get you to notice me, to get you to... to do something so I knew I wasn't the only one feeling this way! I lied to you and I shouldn't have and I know that was stupid of me, but I'm just... I'm so tired of this! I'm so tired of running, Berwald! I love you and I've loved you for so long and I'm so tired of running away from my feelings! I'm a mess, I'm a terrible mess, a-and I... I can't--"  
  
I cut him off.   
  
It's cliché, it's been done a thousand times over and beaten to death, but I can't help but cup his face and kiss him. I make sure he feels every ounce of me, from how I'm shaking because of the cold weather and because of Timo's words, to how my face is warm and how my hands are icy on his face -- everything. I want him to feel it all. I want him to know I'm here and I'm real and how I love him more than anything in this world. The day finally came. I would think myself insane if the cold air wasn’t real enough to make me believe this was happening. Timo Väinämöinen was in love with _me._  
  
Pulling away, I look at him. I can see my breath and Timo's. All I can hear is the wind, our breathing, Timo's shuddered breaths and my own. I open my mouth, but Timo surprises me by throwing his arms around me and kissing me again.   
  
I hold him so close, it's a wonder I don't break him.  
  
We don't know how to kiss, but we make it worth it. It's terrible, sloppy, but when we pull apart, I feel satisfied with it. I'm content with it. Eventually, I know I need to answer Timo. It takes no effort on my part.  
  
"I love you, too. Always have.  _Always_. Was so scared of losin' ya..." I murmur, brushing back some of Timo's hair. I crack a smile, but I don't get one in return. Instead, Timo sniffles, beating my chest, shoving me a bit. Eventually, he stops, leans forward and collides with me.  
  
"I can't believe you! I can't... I can't believe  _me!_  After all of this heartache, after all of these lies... I still... ugh! I should be furious with you, but I can't bring myself to be. You're unfair and cruel and... God, you're amazing."  
  
 _No, you're amazing._  
  
If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up. I don't care if that means I'm dead, I'd rather be in Heaven with Timo telling me he loves me than return to a world where he doesn't. I love him so much. I tell him that, mumbled, roughly whispered as I hold back the sob that bubbles up inside of me. I tell it to him in Swedish, in English, in Swenglish -- I say it over and over again.  
  
And every time, Timo tells me he loves me, too.  
  
I believe him.

* * *

I wanted to elaborate some on Timo's role, since this fic was from Berwald's point of view. Simply, Timo had been in love with him the entire time. He lied when he said he loved Mathias, because he was afraid Berwald didn't love him. He didn't actually lie to make Berwald jealous, he was just so afraid. I wanted to do more with this fic and have Timo's side of the story, but I like it the way it is now. Also, I chose not to give this an endnote link just in case someone would skip to that before reading. It'd ruin the surprise!


End file.
